


You hold the stars that guide me home

by RoisinDubh86



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Fix-It, M/M, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-04-21 07:35:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22050379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoisinDubh86/pseuds/RoisinDubh86
Summary: Everything Steve wanted was in that other timeline. Family, stability, peace – nothing Bucky could ever give him. And he wanted to, he understood now. By God, he wanted to.He wished he could give Steve all of that and more. It was something so deeply engraved in his bones that he only became aware of it now that it slipped out of his grasp forever.~~~Bucky says his farewell to Steve when he leaves to return the stones and have a life. He is sure that Steve will chose Peggy, and that's okay, really, Steve deserves this. Even if his own little universe will remain a little off balance without Steve Rogers in it.Fix-it fic for Endgame because Endgame!Steve is not real.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 5
Kudos: 135





	You hold the stars that guide me home

**You hold the stars that guide me home**

> _"Some people don’t know what they have until it’s gone.”_
> 
> _“But what about the ones who do know? The ones who never took a thing for granted? Who tried their hardest to hold on, yet could only look on helplessly while they lost the thing they loved the most. Isn’t it so much worse for them?”_
> 
> _(Lang Leav)_

It had to be Steve. Of course it had to be Steve, he should have known that by now. Steve had to return the stones and restore the balance of the universe, because that’s just what he did.

Whenever Bucky’s own, ridiculously small world tilted and threw him sideways, it was Steve who set it right again. In an indefinite number of universes and timelines, this was the one fixed thing, always had been. But Bucky was just one man. He was nothing compared to the vastness of the multiverse, and if his own small universe remained a little off balance it was a price he should willingly pay.

“How long will you be gone?” asked Sam, and Bucky was grateful that he started the talking after Steve’s long explanation of his mission.

“Just ten seconds for you. For me… I don’t know. Whatever it takes. Different planets, different timelines, it won’t be a walk in the park.”

“We could –“

“No. Sam, I’ll be fine. Trust me.”

Sam nodded and pulled Steve into a brief hug.

“Make the most of it, Cap.”

Bucky was silent. They’d talked about it, discussed all options. Bucky knew that this was a chance that Steve had been waiting for ever since 2011. He could go back and live the life he’d been robbed of, and if anyone deserved it, it was Steve Grant Rogers.

For himself, that wasn’t an option.

Bucky remembered the way Steve had looked at her. He could still hear the way he’d spoken about her, described her in such loving detail that only a lover could. Peggy Carter had been everything Steve had ever dreamed of and, unlike all the other stupid women, she’d seen him for who he was long before the serum. Bucky knew that, and he loved her for it.

_You deserve her, pal._

He also knew that Steve shouldn’t have to tear himself apart. Peggy deserved to have him, and Steve deserved to have all of _her_, and Bucky knew that their little universe would always be a bit unhinged if he were in it. 

He forced himself to a smile when Steve stood in front of him. It would only take one plea from him and Steve would change his plans, he was sure of it. Everything Steve had ever done had been for others, for _him_, and now that he had the chance to do something just for himself Bucky would rather die than hold him back.

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back,” Steve said, and for a moment Bucky was 26 again and forcing a smile in his shiny new uniform.

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

It was the response Steve needed to hear, but where Steve had sounded defiant and almost cocky, Bucky’s own voice came out too soft, too vulnerable, and everything he couldn’t say got lost in the black hole that was looming above him.

“I’m gonna miss you, buddy,” he managed to say, and immediately regretted it. Steve would be back in ten seconds. He wouldn’t have to miss him. He’d return.

He’d miss the days they’d never have, the stories they’d never share, the memories they’d never make, and his throat restricted just as Steve pulled him close.

“It’s gonna be okay, Buck.”

With these final words Steve stepped onto the platform, carrying Thor’s hammer with ease, and then, just like that, he was gone.

Gone.

Just like that.

Bucky understood, technically, what was happening to Steve right now. It was amazing, unbelievable, a dream of mankind come true, and it made him sick. The ache in his stomach that had been there all along turned into a tidal wave, and as the seconds ticked by and Sam’s frown deepened, he wondered if there would ever come a time when he wouldn’t feel so… not whole.

Sam exchanged worried words with Banner, but Bucky didn’t have the heart to tell them yet. Speaking out loud would make it real, and he wasn’t ready for that.

He wouldn’t get to grow old with him after all. It was a thought that repeated itself again and again in his head and yet he couldn’t really grasp the words. There was something about them that felt so unreal that they slipped from his mind before he could hold them. He knew, of course, deep down in his heart, that it had always been meant to end like this. One of them had always been meant to leave the other. In the Thirties, it had been Steve’s poor health that had had Bucky worried sick that he might not make it through the winter. The war had changed the odds, and Bucky had shipped out and written his letters and thought that he’d be just another soldier lost on the front lines. At some point, at Krausberg, he’d even prayed for it, which was something not even Steve would ever know. The day had come eventually, of course it had, and Bucky had fallen into the nothingness with a scream on his lips and a name on his mind.

Then, one day in a Russian laboratory, he’d lost him again when they finally succeeded in wiping his mind. He’d fought so hard – _remember, remember_ – and still he’d lost. And then –

And then.

It was always something else for them, he knew that by now.

Banner fiddled with the knobs on his machine. Something was wrong, and Bucky could feel his pain being replaced by cold fear. Ten seconds. That’s all it would take, no matter how much time Steve would spend in the other timelines. Twelve seconds, thirteen…

Bucky realized that Steve might very well have died in one of these timelines, and that thought was more terrifying than anything else. To never see him again after he’d just gotten him back – no. He tried desperately to shove that thought to the back of his head. He needed him to come back, one way or the other.

Maybe Steve had been selfish. Maybe he’d stayed with her, never to return. Would it be selfish? He deserved it, more than anyone. And still Bucky couldn’t shake off the feeling of dread and – jealousy? – that rushed through him when the idea crossed his mind. It hadn’t been part of the plan, but that didn’t mean he might not do that. There was no need for Steve to return once he’d put the stones back in place. If he could live there, he could die there, too. Go full circle. Everything he wanted was in that other timeline. Family, stability, peace – nothing Bucky could ever give him. And he wanted to, he understood now. By God, he wanted to.

He wished he could give Steve all of that and more. It was something so deeply engraved in his bones that he only became aware of it now that it slipped out of his grasp forever. He remembered their childhood, their youth; he remembered freezing nights in war-ridden Europe and warm summer evenings on the fire escape of their shabby home in Brooklyn.

_Did you see that shooting star, Buck? First time I’ve seen one. It’s a shame you can hardly see the stars with all the neon lights from down here._

_If you wanna see the stars, I’ll tear the whole damn city down for you, Stevie._

He’d meant it, he knew that, but only now did he understand it.

Till the end of the line. They’d promised each other, and through all their lives they’d kept this promise, carried it from Brooklyn to Krausberg, from Washington to Leipzig, from Siberia to Wakanda. I’m with you till the end of the line. The nine words had become their own constellation, one that no one else could see, that would always bring them home. For that was, indeed, their home, he knew that now. Quietly, unnoticeably, this truth had planted itself in his heart during all the Skype conversations, the shared days out at the farm, the laughter and tears that could never quite make up for the missing years. Bucky’s home had never been Brooklyn or Bucharest or Wakanda.

Sometimes, home was a person.

He fought against the feeling of dread that settled in his stomach and clenched his fists. Those sentiments were wrong; he should not think of Steve that way. He prayed that neither Sam nor Banner would look at him. He was supposed to look nervous, but he wasn’t that good an actor. He wasn’t nervous.

His heart was breaking, and he was scared as Hell.

Bucky couldn’t take it anymore. He was running out of air in this place, and he wondered, briefly, if this was how it would always feel from now on. 90 years ago he’d prayed to God to let Steve breathe, back when pneumonia and asthma had almost choked the life out of him, and now it was Bucky who was suffocating. Everyone had always marveled at Bucky’s iron will to keep Stevie alive, but in truth, it was Steve who’d brought Bucky back to life again and again. Steve had inspired him to fight, he’d been his incentive to carry on, after Azzano, after Krausberg, he’d carried on and all for Steve. It’s what Steve Rogers did, he knew that. He inspired people, made them grow, made them believe in their cause and themselves.

He’d made Bucky believe in himself again; he’d seen the human being when the world and Bucky himself still saw a monster. He’d loved him all the same, and Bucky would always love him for it.

It was as simple as that.

His eyes started to burn and he turned away, just as someone yelled and he heard a familiar sound and suddenly his heart froze in his chest. He couldn’t turn around. Not yet. Not turning around meant he could pretend, just for a little while longer.

Voices reached his ears, Sam and Banner and –

“Hey, Buck.”

All of a sudden he could feel the panic sink in. He’d returned, at last. And he should be happy and smile and ask him about the missing years, because that’s what Sam would do, and Steve deserved this, but –

But.

He took a shaky breath and steeled himself. Turned around, slowly, too slowly, and then Steve’s hands were on his shoulders. 

“Buck. Oh God, Buck.”

The same blue eyes. The same nose, same chin, same dimples. Not a grey hair, not a wrinkle. He’d returned as he had left, not aged a day, and Bucky had never wanted to punch him as much as he did now.

“What the Hell, Steve?”

“It’s good to see you, too, Buck.”

But it was not good. This had never been part of the plan.

“You didn’t stay,” Bucky stated flatly, fully aware how wounded his voice sounded. “You came back.”

“Yeah.”

“You said you’d – we _talked_ about it –“

He noticed that Sam and Banner were coming closer, but he didn’t care. Not anymore. However, both men seemed to feel the tension and kept their distance.

“It didn’t feel right,” Steve replied quietly. “I didn’t belong there. Peggy… she was happy without me.”

It was a lie. His eyes gave him away. Bucky had always been able to read Steve like an open book, but sometimes he wished he couldn’t. It would make it easier to just accept it. Steve had thrown away his chance because he thought he owed him, and all the pain had been for nothing, and from now on Bucky would always feel responsible for standing between Steve and his happiness once again. He felt sick.

“You could have had a life. Could’ve been happy.”

“And you think I can’t have that here?”

“Damnit Steve,” he growled, “I just – I wanted you to be happy. Just once. And you threw it away.”

Steve took a step back and raised his hands. His face was pale, his eyes like the sea, troubled just before the storm and high waves.

“It was my choice, Buck. Why are you mad at me anyway? That was _my_ decision. _I_ gave her up. Not you.”

“I gave _you_ up, and it tore me apart.”

He didn’t realize the words had left his mouth until he saw Steve’s eyes widen in shock. His arms hung limply, and he thought he saw his knees shake a little. Bucky wanted to run. He could feel the hurt deep down inside him, as if the monster that had been lurking there was finally ready to claw its way out.

He wished he could take back the words. They had come out wrong, he wanted to say, just to wipe that expression of utter disbelief off Steve’s face. But words could never be unspoken.

Steve only stared at him, his lips slightly parted as if he wanted to speak, a strand of hair falling into his eyes as the wind shook the branches of the nearby tree. The sun drew flecks of gold onto his skin, like a miniature tapestry of stars, and with his shaking hands he held Bucky’s universe in place. 

“I know, Buck. And I am so, _so_ sorry. I should’ve known sooner – “

“You shouldn’t have come back. Not for me.” Bucky all but spit the words out. Bitterness rang with every single one of them, and his voice was on the edge of breaking. He was a grown man, he should be able to handle this, and yet here he was somewhere between rage and self-pity and the overwhelming wish to put that smile back on Steve’s face, even if it meant he had to fake a smile on his own. “You shouldn’t have come back for me, Steve,” he repeated, and his face hurt when he forced the corners of his mouth to go up slightly. “I’m gonna be okay, you said so yourself. No need for you to take care of me.” He was healing. Sometimes he even slept for a whole night, and throughout the months in Wakanda the echoes of the cries of the Winter Soldier’s victims had quieted down to faint whispers from the darkest corners of his mind. He’d be alright, somehow.

“I want to be there for you. I came back for you.”

Steve spoke so softly, and he didn’t know what he was saying, and Bucky snapped at him before he could stop himself.

“Well you shouldn’t have! I’m a mess, I’m still so messed up and you know it! You wanna be there for me? Tough news, Steve, that’s a shitload of work.”

“Not for me. Not if it’s you.”

There was something in Steve’s eyes, in the way the corners of his mouth softened as he spoke, that grounded Bucky and calmed the rage inside him. There was a truth in those words that made the monster inside become still. Made it wait in hope, though he didn’t dare to think –

“Because it _is_ you, Buck.”

Bucky flinched when Steve’s hands brushed against his. He knew these hands, their firm grasp on his shoulder, their comforting touch against the back of his neck, his lifeline in the darkest storms. And still, this was different. Without thinking he allowed Steve’s fingers to entwine with his and he marveled at the warmth that spread from them. He wondered what Steve felt when he held his left hand. The metal used to feel cold to the touch, but the Wakandan tech had fixed that. _It feels real_, Steve had said back then, when he had held Bucky’s hand in the Wakandan lab during the post-snap checkup.

_It feels real._

“You came back for me,” he murmured, and the significance of that simple truth gradually sank into his mind.

“Always.” He could see the insecurity written in Steve’s eyes. “And I don’t care if you think I shouldn’t have. That was my choice. But if you want me gone – if you don’t want –“

His voice trailed off, the sentence unfinished, and still Steve’s hands were trembling. He was scared, Bucky realized, and the irony almost made him laugh. Just two scared boys trying to find their way home.

“Not without you,” Bucky said, his voice wavering ever so slightly as if it remembered the last time he’d said those words. It was as true now as it had been then. “Not without you, Stevie.”

And at the sound of this old nickname Steve buried his face against his chest, with a small sigh of relief that only Bucky could hear, and his fingers curled around Bucky’s, holding him fast and steady now. Bucky closed his eyes and breathed in the moment. Neither of them spoke, and when Bucky became aware of the slight shaking of Steve’s shoulders he realized that his friend was silently weeping. He mumbled hushed words into Steve’s ear until the silent sobs faded away, and he still held his hands even when Steve lifted his head and smiled at him, blue eyes shining and bringing the sun to shame in comparison.

“I’m gonna do something stupid,” he whispered, and when his lips brushed against Bucky’s the universe span around them, balanced and steady and permanent, and in its center two lost boys finally came home.

* * *

_If you can hold the stars in place_

_You can hold my heart the same_

_Whenever I fall away_

_Whenever I start to break_

_So here I am, lifting up my heart_

_To the one who holds the stars_

("Stars", Skillet)

**Author's Note:**

> “If you wanna see the stars…” was inspired by a quote in a fanfic called “Slither” By WitchGirl  
“Tough news, Steve, that’s a shitload of work.” – “Not to me. Not if it’s you.” Blatantly stolen from Euripides (albeit in a modernish version)


End file.
